I don't really like the word blog, but it seems pointless to fight it, Zis is a blog.
If you want to know more about an Algerian girl who lives in London and struggles with thoughts that are beyond the remits of her understanding, stories of society and social climbers of love and deception and of a status of seemingly eternal singlehood, then you are in the right place...

Wednesday, 23 January 2013

January is a drag, 31 days of cold unrelenting weather, it’s like a living a Monday morning over and over again. I almost feel grateful for the eventfulness of it all, with the Hostage crisis in InAmenas …hmmm that’s it.

Not much happens in January really, you might lose a couple of pounds, but fear not, they’re literally there hanging in the air waiting to cling back to your hips or in my case, my ass.
I tried to think of what’s going on, but only found a few friends still busy with their NY resolutions, they’re not really busy though, they just use the “I am so busy” as a badge of honour, oh I have a life don’t you know, yeah well I have a blog.

Anyway, so one more thing that happened was this guy at work , who was eating ice-cream at lunch, he said “oh this coconut ice-cream is really delicious”, his ice-cream was pink, so I said “your ice-cream is pink” so he said “yeah cos it’s strawberries”, I asked if there was any coconut in it, he said “don’t think so no”.

In other news, there’s a competition at work on who drinks the biggest amounts of water, I drink enough I could win the damn competition and anyone who knows me knows where I stand on water, well not literally, there’s only one guy who could do that and look what they did to him, so this is a moo point.

Did I tell you I had a date this year; I know you’re thinking already??
Yep, but it turned out, his balls hadn’t dropped yet, I am waiting (not really) for them to grow, maybe he’ll be able to explain, to himself, what happened.

Communication is a key element you see, the Algerian government teaches us all about that in their latest communication frenzy! In Operation covert I call: Silence Radio.
They could have just sent us a text like they usually do about voting.

Saturday, 19 January 2013

This article is written as part of the DZBlogDay, the topic was set by the organisers and this is my contribution and opinion on the “The Algerian Web”.

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Ban el Web

The Algerian loves the internet; he loves it to destruction, to infinity, to freedom, but not in the same way the Nigerian does.

Only the web gives the Algerian the freedom he so craves in his life, own land and country, he can be John, he can be, and a lot of the time is Maurice, he can be a doctor, he can be a rich business man, in love and ready to tie the knot, he can also be a troll and he makes the best of them.

Farid’s life consists of staying up until dawn, sleeping until noon, mingling with his homies and sharing a cup a coffee at the local café. Farid doesn’t have a job, he didn’t finish school and he has no prospects.

The first internet café opened in town, it’s dark, it smells of stale tobacco and a pungent faint body odour, the air is heavy with illegitimacy and shifty looks, all PCs are in use, young men hunched over their keyboards chatting to their Scandinavian blondes promising them eternal love and undying loyalty.

Upon connection, Farid transforms into a successful business man, he runs a prêt-a-porter shop for women in town. He is tall and handsome and believes it, as long as he’s connected. He lives his DZ avatar life to the full.

There are others, who aren’t attempting the love-to-escape route, who find comfort in hacking facebook and hotmail accounts and playing pranks on other web-loved-up candidates, 5 out of 24 hours can be spent tormenting a poor hopeful from Setif, impersonating a girl from Annaba who is cute, shy but interested, the other 19 hours are spent on the dismal not so virtual life.

Others, on a nobler quest are planning the Spring that never came, the big guys up in the watch towers have shut it down, facebook is blocked, a few YouTube revolutionaries arrested and the lovers miss their web-wives, the DZ web seemed pretty bleak until the smiling hacker Hamza Bendelladj came along, some viewed it as a step-up, as feelings of pride and not so-discreet smirks appeared and defended it “there’s not such thing as bad publicity”.

But it wasn’t average Farid, Farid can’t hack worth a Dinar, he’s a sappy romantic who spends his living hours daydreaming about a life away from here or waiting to speak to his love interest, but sadly she’s 7 hours ahead and asleep.

Dz Web life is frustratingly and unfairly virtual.

In a world where, love is denied you, jobs are as scarce as teeth on a chicken, freedom is written not given, where rights are uttered not granted, where liberties are infringed, where visas are refused and the ships are guarded, there is no where to run and nothing to do but to become a Dz Avatar and dream of greener pastures and a better life and a blonde wife, with a freedom of movement beyond el houma and money in the pocket and peace in the heart, of a greener country and cleaner street, of a place where you don’t have to bribe your way into a public toilet and buy people to do their already paid jobs.